Dirt Lots & Backstops
by onlymystory
Summary: Written for Holly, who won one of my Sterek Campaign fics. Her request was "Sterek and baseball. Canon, not AU. Bonus for cheesy innuendos and the appearance of the San Francisco Giants." Chapter 2 has the second bonus.
1. Chapter 1

**Written for Holly, who won one of my Sterek Campaign fics. Her request was "Sterek and baseball. Canon, not AU. Bonus for cheesy innuendos and the appearance of the San Francisco Giants." Chapter 2 has the second bonus.**

* * *

"Stiles!"

A horn honked and the sounds of Scott's not at all dulcet tones filled the air. Stiles leaned his head out the window to yell at his best friend. "Do I need research crap for today? Weapons? First aid?"

Scott gave him a 'you are ridiculous' look. He seriously needed to patent the thing with how much use he got out of it. "I told you, pack bonding. As in a fun trip and could you hurry up already? Your coffee's getting cold."

Stiles shoved his feet in tennis shoes, snagged a hoodie—blue, because contrary to Peter & Lydia's opinions, he is actually not a walking cliché—and ran out the door.

Allison was in the front seat, looking just barely above dead to the world. Once he was settled in the backseat, she handed him a to go cup and he grinned at her. "You are a goddess."

"And you're far too easy to please," she returned.

"It is my natural state. Especially for people who cater to my coffee needs."

"Yeah, yeah, hands off the girlfriend," joked Scott, pulling away from the house.

Stiles laughed at him but listened. Allison, like the other women in his life, were perfectly capable of cutting off limbs if you pissed them off and Allison didn't look fully coherent yet.

"So what's the plan, O'Second in Command?"

"Secret."

"Dude, best friend code. Tell me."

"I didn't even tell Allison. This is a surprise," answered Scott. "Now sit and drink your coffee."

Stiles sighed and did as he was told, letting his thoughts drift as Scott drove. Things were good in Beacon Hills. Nowhere near perfect but better by a long shot, with the promise of good times continuing. For a while the tension threatened to splinter everyone apart but after joining forces to beat the Alpha pack, followed by Gerard, they'd managed to form a friendly—if not quite family—pack.

Derek had rented a loft at one point but between all the fights, pack crashing, and general chaos, it was a disaster and only barely a step up from the train station. He needed to figure out an alternative, especially now that everyone was around all the time. Isaac was about to turn eighteen—like Stiles, he had an early birthday—so he'd be free to live with Derek. If Derek had a home.

Peter was floating around somewhere in Europe, not really wanting to be around a bunch of teenagers. No one had mourned his departure. They wouldn't hear much from him at all except for the fact that Lydia sent him pictures of Stiles and Isaac and then Peter would critique their wardrobe. None of that made any sense to Stiles.

At some point between the Alphas and Gerard, Scott and Derek finally put aside their differences and agreed to work together for more than just the occasional stupid plan.

They'd decided a month ago to add pack bonding activities to their training schedule and this—whatever it was—was the first event that didn't involve an Avengers movie. Stiles had done his best to figure it out, pestering both werewolves, but with no luck.

It wasn't that Stiles couldn't handle not knowing what was going on but…okay yeah, he just didn't like being kept out of the loop. How was he supposed to know how to rescue people if he didn't have all the facts? It was just common sense. Not that that particular argument ever worked for him.

They pulled off the highway on the edge of town, near the opposite end of the preserve from Derek's house but still well within Hale territory. (Which was surprisingly large). Scott parked behind Derek's Camaro at the edge of a decently open field.

Stiles scrambled out after Allison and went to stand by Jackson and Danny. "Sup?" he asked, elbowing Jackson in the side.

Ever since Lydia's big love conquers all moment, Stiles and Jackson had become decent friends. The werewolf had come to Stiles and asked for help, noting that while Derek was his alpha, Stiles clearly knew better when it came to training a bitten werewolf, since he'd helped Scott and even Derek's betas listened to Stiles' ideas.

"McCall, what are we doing here?" asked Jackson, a touch of annoyance in his voice.

Scott tugged a bag out of Derek's trunk, along with a bucket of baseballs and dumped them on the ground. "Baseball!" he beamed.

Behind Scott, Derek rolled his eyes and tossed a bag full of gloves next to the rest of the equipment.

"You do realize that despite the two Alphas of the same pack, the creeper who likes sneaking into underage bedrooms, and the awesome human child of a small town sheriff, we are not actually a Twilight movie, right?" asked Stiles.

"But clearly if we ever go that way, you've decided to cast yourself as Bella Swan," said Erica with a toothy grin.

The other pack members laughed or rolled their eyes at Stiles and started digging through the bags for gloves that would fit.

Jackson watched Stiles with discernment, coming to a decision after a few second. "You gonna be okay with this?" asked Jackson in a low voice to Stiles, who was still leaning against the car.

Stiles gave him a grateful smile. "Yeah, I'm good, Jacks. Thanks though."

"I can't believe McCall didn't run this by you first."

"He didn't know," shrugged Stiles. At Jackson's puzzled look, he explained a little more. "Scott only became my best friend a year before the werewolf stuff started. He wasn't around to know the stuff you do."

Jackson accepted the answer without a response and then headed off, apparently determining his good deed done for the day.

Derek slipped into Jackson's place. "Some thing wrong with baseball?"

"Nope," answered Stiles. "My mom taught me to love the sport, took me to games and stuff. But it's a good memory."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. It's just one of those things that leaves a twinge of sadness but I like baseball. Jackson's just being overprotective."

"Better than how he used to be," noted Derek.

"True. Now let's talk about this eavesdropping business."

"I wasn't eavesdropping."

Stiles' raised eyebrow was nowhere near as effective as the ones Derek usually flashed at him but it still had the desired effect.

"Your voice stands out," admitted Derek.

"Huh." Stiles tucked that little tidbit away to remember later. "So who gets to be team captains?" he asked, loud enough for the others. To hear.

"Scott and Jackson," answered Boyd.

Several heads turned to him.

"Co-captains of lacrosse," said Boyd by way of explanation. "Scott can go first."

"Danny," picked Scott after deliberating a moment.

"Dude!" yelped Stiles, pretending to be upset.

"He's the best athlete in school. Sorry buddy." Scott looked a little sheepish but not that apologetic.

"Stiles," said Jackson without even hesitation.

"I would have picked Stiles next," pouted Scott. It was clear he didn't like the idea of Jackson picking Stiles just to piss him off.

"But you didn't," retorted Jackson.

"Isaac," huffed Scott.

"Allison."

"Lydia." Scott glared at Jackson, causing Stiles and Allison to start giggling.

"Erica."

"Derek."

"Boyd," finished Jackson.

"I feel so special," said Boyd as he joined the team.

"I got picked second to last," muttered Derek from the other side of Scott. "As the Alpha."

Stiles detected a hint of a pouting growl in Derek's tone and bit back a grin.

"Okay so, standard baseball rules," said Scott. "Even with fewer players. Werewolf powers are only allowed when fielding and only against other werewolves. It's not fair to our human pack members otherwise."

"I think that's a great plan," said Jackson, nudging Stiles.

"So good," agreed Stiles, leaning into Jackson and bursting into laughter.

"Are any of us supposed to understand you two today?" asked Isaac as he absently twirled a bat in one hand.

"Sorry," wheezed Stiles through his laughter.

"Yeah, sorry," echoed Jackson.

The pair continued cracking up onto the field, where Boyd had started to move towards the pitcher's mound.

Jackson waved a hand to stop him. "Stiles is pitching."

"He is?" questioned Allison.

"Yup," said Stiles.

Boyd shrugged and jogged over to first. Erica hovered behind second base and Allison took up a spot between third and a shallow left.

From the sidelines, Derek waved a hand. "You sure you want to pitch, Stiles? It doesn't seem like your position."

"I'm pretty flexible actually," smirked Stiles. "But, I mean, as fun as catching can be, I'd rather pitch as a general rule."

"Are we still talking about baseball?" Isaac rolled his eyes.

Stiles flashed him a grin. "Everyone handles balls a little differently, pup."

"Oh my god," muttered Erica.

Stiles shot her a cheeky grin while Jackson got set behind home plate.

Derek stepped up to bat first. "Think you can even get it over the plate?" he taunted.

Stiles wound up and threw, the ball landing with a satisfactory thwack in Jackson's glove. Derek gaped at him.

Jackson smirked and threw the ball back to Stiles.

"Lucky pitch," yelled Scott from the side.

The next pitch was another hard fastball. Derek was still a little bit in shock because he didn't even swing.

Stiles threw a curve ball. Derek finally swung and missed.

"What the hell?" growled Derek.

"C'mon Derek," mocked Scott. "No wolf powers doesn't mean going easy on him."

Derek glared at his second. "Let's see you get a hit, then we'll talk."

Scott swung a few times before standing at the plate. "Best friends or not, I won't go easy on you," he yelled to Stiles.

"By all means, if you can get a hit, take it."

Scott was out as fast as Derek, not even getting a swing off.

"How did you do that?" asked Scott. "Those pitches had to be at least seventy miles an hour."

"More like 85," corrected Stiles.

"Care to explain how you pitch an 85 mile per hour fastball?" asked Derek.

The others—minus Jackson—seemed just as curious as Derek.

"I play baseball," answered Stiles with a shrug. "Have since I was a little kid. Beacon Hills doesn't have a team so I usually play in summer leagues a couple towns over. But I couldn't play last year due to the Alphas causing so much drama."

"Is that why Jackson was asking you if you were okay earlier?" asked Erica.

Stiles nodded. "Yeah."

'We played little league together for years," interjected Jackson.

"Can we go back to the game now?" yelled Danny, looking supremely bored.

"Yes please," said Stiles.

The baffled looks didn't stop but the others did get back to baseball. Danny managed to get a piece of the ball on Stiles' 2nd pitch but Boyd caught the foul off the first base line, stopping any momentum by the opposing team.

Isaac stepped up to pitch for his team and both Stiles and Allison managed to score before a fly ball from Erica was caught by Derek to end the inning.

Stiles struck out Lydia first. She did actually put some effort in but didn't look too upset. She never claimed to be athletically inclined, just participated in training activities. Then Isaac made it on base with a line drive past Allison.

Derek walked up to the plate for the second time, grinning at Stiles. "Large order of curly fries says you can't strike me out twice in a row."

"Done."

Stiles' first pitch—a slider—slipped right past Derek. Though he didn't really try to hit it, just watched Stiles as he threw, understanding more about his pitching style. The following fastball was belted into the trees, an automatic homerun.

"What the hell?!" yelped Stiles, watching in disbelief as Derek rounded the bases behind Isaac, tying up the score.

"We said no wolf," said Allison.

"He didn't use any," said Stiles. "Even I could tell that." He glared at Derek. "Explain."

"Beacon Hills High used to have a baseball team," said Derek by way of answer. "You aren't the only one who's first love is something other than lacrosse."

"Then what was with striking out last time," asked Scott indignantly.

"I wasn't ready," answered Derek. "This time around I stopped underestimating Stiles."

Stiles huffed. "Stupid baseball playing werewolf."

Derek flashed his fangs at him. "Sucks to be you."

"More like you suck," muttered Stiles.

"Oh you have no idea," returned Derek and laughed out loud when Stiles flushed a deep red.

"Are you two done?" asked Boyd from the field.

Stiles made a face at him but refocused his attention, as did Derek, and got back to the game.

They stayed fairly even as the game went on. Allison and Boyd were a nearly unstoppable duo on the field, turning any hit to them into an instant out. Derek and Danny kept their teams hopes alive while at bat, bringing Isaac or Scott home with solid hits.

Everyone on Jackson's team got hits, but only Boyd managed to hit homers. The final score ended at 11-9 with Team Jackson winning.

Afterwards, the pack sat around eating the sandwiches Scott had brought along. Allison was leaning against Scott, feet propped up in Isaac's lap. Erica also had her legs tangled with Isaac's, though she rested her head on Boyd's shoulder.

Jackson, Lydia, and Danny were sprawled across each other.

Derek wasn't quite as relaxed but he was sitting down. Stiles sat near him, though without touching, no matter how much he wanted to lean in a little closer. Something, Stiles wasn't completely sure what, was going on between the two of them.

He knew he liked Derek. He was fairly certain that Derek liked Stiles. Stiles just wasn't sure why exactly Derek wasn't acting on it. There had been a moment back when Gerard had returned and kidnapped the two of them when Derek revealed all the truths about the fire. And a couple months later, at dinner one night, Sheriff Stilinski had made it clear that while he wasn't cheerleading anything, he wasn't opposed to Derek's interest in Stiles either.

Still, it wasn't Stiles' place to push, at least not in this instance. So he did things like today. Joked with Derek, flirted a little bit, and let himself be comfortable in Derek's proximity, even when nothing managed to progress. He figured he'd decipher Derek's reluctance eventually.

Derek seemed to notice Stiles' train of thought wandering, as he joined the conversation the others were having. "This was a good idea, Scott. Thank you."

Scott beamed. "Would have been nicer if we won but it was pretty awesome."

"Still, the point was to bond as a pack and a baseball game allowed that." Derek really was pleased.

"You know," interrupted Lydia, not at all subtly, "We could bond more if there was a place to hang out. Like a refurbished house for example."

"Lydia," began Derek.

"That's not a bad idea," said Erica. "We could all pitch in now that school's out and have the place done in no time."

The other members of the pack immediately joined in, voicing ideas for how the house could be rebuilt, decorated, who's rooms would be where, what sort of birthday parties and holiday events could be planned around it.

The discussion was perfectly happy, but Stiles noticed that Derek was shutting down. He looked more stressed by the moment, almost like he was captured and didn't know how to get free. His eyes kept flashing red too, a sure sign that he was overwhelmed.

"Hey Derek, can you give me a ride home?" asked Stiles, stopping the other conversation momentarily and gaining Derek's focus.

"What?" asked Derek.

"A ride," repeated Stiles. "I've been trying to do better about dinners with Dad."

Scott raised his head. "I can take you home, Stiles. I do have your jeep after all."

Stiles shook his head vigorously. "No man, don't even worry about it. You guys are all obviously enjoying being out here and you can all be romantic and shit once the stars come out. Besides, Derek should probably make sure Peter hasn't tried to ask your mom out again."

"He just doesn't learn." Scott had been furious the first time the resurrected Peter Hale asked his mother out by trying to flirt over coffee. Until he learned that Peter left the coffee shop puking because Melissa put wolfsbane in his drink. Scott didn't have much of a problem anymore. It was too much fun to watch Peter fail.

"Nope," agreed Stiles. "So, Derek? A ride?"

Derek nodded and stood up. "Yeah, let's go." He didn't say anything else as they walked over to the car, and Stiles didn't push until they were out on the highway, out of range of any wolf ears.

"Do you want to talk about it?" asked Stiles.

"About what?"

"The fact that you kept getting upset with all the talk about rebuilding the house. You know you can tell them to shut up about it. Everyone would understand if you don't want to fix it up."

"It's not that." Derek didn't continue, but his knuckles turned white as they gripped the steering wheel harder.

Stiles remained quiet, letting Derek work through his feelings. He knew Derek would open up eventually.

They were a few minutes from Stiles' house when Derek finally spoke up again. "I want to fix the house, I really do. I want to have the house and the pack over all the time. I can picture Christmas, with Erica yelling at Danny about how to make popcorn balls or Jackson hanging mistletoe in every doorway and trying to pretend the girls are the romantic saps, not him. I want baseball games to be a regular occurrence, not a pre-planned special outing. I want all of it but it scares me."

"Because you could lose it?" guessed Stiles.

"Because I don't know how to get it. It's too much, Stiles. The pack, the betas…they want everything to change to be perfect and I don't know where to start or what to do next or…" Derek's voice rose as he started panicking.

Stiles put a hand on Derek's leg, calming him as Derek pulled into the driveway. "Breathe, Derek."

"Sorry," said Derek quietly when he'd recovered.

"You don't have anything to apologize for," said Stiles. He thought for a minute. He had an idea about how to help Derek, but he'd need to get his dad's help to pull it off. "Pick me up tomorrow," he said. "And bring an overnight bag."

"Okay," said Derek as Stiles exited the car.

Stiles smiled and waved as Derek left. When he walked into the house, his dad looked up from the couch. "How was pack bonding?"

"Good. Just a heads up, I'm taking Derek out of town tomorrow." At John's widened eyes, Stiles hurried to correct the impression. "Not like that! Derek's stressing out and I think I have a way to fix it."

"Oh?" asked John.

"Yeah. Think you can get Granddad to give me his Giants tickets for Friday? I'm thinking a werewolf in San Francisco is an experience I can't miss."


	2. Chapter 2

Derek woke Stiles up at 8am with coffee and donuts. Well technically his dad woke him up because Derek was downstairs in the kitchen with said treats. John chose not to mention that Derek had brought a baker's dozen just so the Sheriff could sneak an extra donut behind Stiles' back. What his son didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

"When I said tomorrow, I didn't actually mean before noon," grumbled Stiles as he sleepily made his way down the stairs.

"I got caramel sauce, not syrup and extra whip cream," offered Derek by way of apology, handing Stiles the coffee cup first.

Stiles sipped gratefully and cautiously looked over at the donut box. "If there's a cruller in there, I'll forgive you completely."

Derek opened the box with just a hint of a flourish to reveal a total of three crullers and an assortment of other options.

Stiles shoved half a donut in his mouth before trying to reply, talking around the food. "Thanks, Der. S'good."

"Welcome," answered Derek. "So why did I have to bring an overnight bag? Where are you taking me?"

"I'm actually going to make you drive," said Stiles, grabbing a second donut. "But we're going to San Francisco."

Derek raised an eyebrow to indicate his further questions.

Stiles considered the oddity of the fact that he was fluent in Derek's eyebrows. But he answered. "You need a break and I need to enjoy my last summer before senior year so we're going to a Giants game. My granddad has season tickets. Dad already called him and the tickets will be at will call."

"We're going to a baseball game," said Derek a bit incredulously.

"Yup. Well and one other stop but that one you don't get to know about until we get there."

"Tell me."

"No."

"Stiles. Tell me," insisted Derek.

Stiles gave him a 'you are being ridiculous' look. "It's a surprise."

"Then you don't get the last cruller," said Derek.

John walked behind Derek while he was arguing and stole it out of his hands. "Thanks."

Stiles burst into laughter at Derek's flabbergasted face. He picked up the backpack he'd left by the door last night and drained the rest of his coffee. "C'mon fail wolf, let's go. We've got a four hour drive ahead of us and if you're nice to me, I'll let you pick the music."

Derek followed, protesting all the way. "It's my car, Stiles. That you're making me drive."

"I know, which is why I am magnanimously allowing you to choose the music."

"My car!"

Derek ended up letting Stiles choose the music so long as he agreed to let a song play all the way through instead of switching every few seconds.

Once Stiles finally settled on The Used—about 45 minutes into the drive—Derek started talking. "So you're a Giants fan?"

"Oh hell no. I am a Mets fan for life."

"Mets?" laughed Derek derisively, ignoring Stiles' glare. "They haven't won a Series since '86. The Giants are clearly the better team and they're local."

"Excuse you," snapped Stiles. "The Giants have been good the last few years I'll give you that but prior to 2010, they hadn't won a title since 1954. When they weren't even the San Francisco Giants. They were a New York team. So there."

"And yet they're winning now and the Mets are just…" Derek looked over at Stiles. "Do people even go to the games anymore?"

Stiles punched him in the arm. "Ass. A true fan doesn't drift away in bad weather. "

"Well I guess it's been storming for a while. It's okay though. I can have enough good taste for the both of us," joked Derek.

"The Mets were my mom's favorite team," said Stiles in a low voice that sounded just a bit broken.

"Aw shit. Stiles, I'm sorry. I was just teasing, I didn't mean to make you upset. The Mets are great, seriously." Derek really was genuinely sorry.

Stiles burst into laughter. "You are so freaking gullible."

"You played the mom card?" said Derek, more than a little shocked. Stiles didn't do that as a general rule.

"No, I played the baseball fan card that my mother taught me. Every fan has a beautiful story, it doesn't mean you should quit trash talking. Mom was a die-hard Dodgers fan, drove Granddad crazy. You were just easy to fool."

"I hate you," muttered Derek, without any actual malice in his tone.

Stiles grinned gleefully.

"You still have to sit at a Giants game tonight with a Giants fan," said Derek after a few minutes.

"Yeah I do," agreed Stiles. "It's gonna be rough."

Derek looked sharply at him. "What aren't you saying?"

Stiles smirked at him. "Giants are playing the Mets. Bring it on."

They spent most of the rest of the drive—minus a stop for snacks that included puffy cheetos, making Derek buy a pack of napkins so Stiles wouldn't get orange dust all over his car and no, just because that would make the Camaro orange and black, the colors of the Giants, was not a valid reason to stop using napkins—arguing about which team had the better all time roster.

Stiles argued in favor of players like Hundley, who's catching stats were far better than the outfield failure he's remembered as or Leiter with his solid left-handed pitching.

Derek argued for batting powerhouse Matt the Bat, or equally consistent hitter Orlando Cepeda. Stiles laughed at him for going so old school to find his top players and countered with the fact that players could be great with the Mets and fail elsewhere, citing Beltran as an example.

They debated legends like Willie Mays, Mike Piazza, and Tom Seaver. Derek learned that Stiles got extra defensive and loud when he implied anything bad about the Miracle Mets and wouldn't listen to arguments about not being around for that heyday. It reminded Derek a lot of how his younger brother Josh would get so vocal about the White Sox and how it wasn't fair that the Black Sox scandal still haunted their reputation. Josh had been easy to tease. He just had to make a comment about the Cubs being the superior Chicago team and the ensuing rant would last a good two hours.

While listening to Stiles lecture him about the impressiveness of the Miracle Mets team, Derek realized that he understood what Stiles meant the day before about good memories. His thoughts were full of his family and the baseball games they sometimes went to and the many more they watched and played as a family. Not a single person liked the same team and the fights could get brutal. His aunt Alice—a Yankees fan—and his father, Alice's brother—and a passionate Braves fan—ended up tearing apart one of the couches during their fight on the final game.

Maggie—Derek's mother—had not been pleased.

But still, flooded as he was with memories, he didn't feel his usual overwhelming guilt, just a touch of sadness. Mostly, he just missed baseball. He started to wonder if maybe together, he and Stiles could carry on traditions through the sport.

Derek realized he hadn't been listening to Stiles for a little while. "Sorry, what was that?" he asked, pretending to have just missed a tiny bit of the conversation.

"Dude, I don't know where you went just now but you were smiling so I'm going to assume it was a good trip," said Stiles with a smile.

"Everyone in my family was big baseball fans," offered Derek by way of explanation. He didn't really know how to say anything else without dealing with the bad memories. Some things were hard to explain.

"Yeah," sighed Stiles. He knew exactly what Derek meant.

It was quiet for a couple minutes, both men lost in thought, until Stiles perked up again. "Where are we?"

"Coming up on 630."

"Go south towards Fremont."

"Why Fremont?"

"Technically we're going past Fremont, it's just faster than cutting through San Francisco. But there's a really good burger joint we can pick up lunch at on the way."

Derek followed Stiles' instructions and they only had to turn around once—because of construction, so not Stiles' fault or so Stiles insisted—before they had burgers, curly fries, and milkshakes from a place Derek promptly forgot the name of.

Stiles slurped his shake as he continued directing Derek, until they pulled into a small parking lot in front of an empty little league baseball field. It was a pretty beat up field with only a couple bleachers for seats and no lights.

"Uh Stiles?"

"Uh Derek."

"You're sure this is our stop?"

"Yup." Stiles hopped out of the car, food in one hand and a blanket from the backseat over his shoulder. He dumped the bags on the field just off the first base line and motioned for Derek to join him.

Derek sat cautiously, still very much confused. He followed Stiles' example and ate before bringing up any further conversation.

When they finished, Derek looked at Stiles expectantly. "So? Why are we at a little league field in Menlo Park?"

Stiles sat up, resting his arms on his knees and looking out over the field as he answered. "Brandon Crawford's your favorite current Giants player, right?"

Derek nodded. "We played against each other in a couple tournaments growing up. He's older but I remembered being excited that a local kid made good with the Giants."

"So here's the thing," explained Stiles. "Crawford grew up here. In Menlo Park. I can't guarantee that he played on this particular field but the odds are pretty good. The point though, is what happened in a field just like this.

Derek stayed quiet, letting Stiles continue.

"Last year, Brandon Crawford got to stand on the field of a professional baseball stadium, surrounded by the applause of thousands of fans, with friends and family, and he could call himself a World Series champion. For a baseball player, it's the ultimate dream come true."

"Yeah," said Derek wistfully. He'd been good back then. It wasn't that much of a fantasy to imagine himself doing the same thing.

Stiles smiled. "Those dreams don't start in a stadium. They come true there, but it's born on a dirt lot, with friends cheering and jeering behind a backstop, where the only prizes are bragging rights. Dreams are born in the places no one notices."

Stiles reached out and put his hand on Derek's. "That dream didn't come true overnight, Derek. It started with batting practice and t-ball games."

"You gotta crawl before you can fly," offered Derek. He could see now why Stiles brought him here. Derek wanted the stadium, the championships, which for him meant a house and family and pack and Stiles. But he'd been so overwhelmed by the promise of a future that he forgot how to get there. "You're saying I need to go back to fundamentals?"

"Basically," agreed Stiles. "Pick one or two things you can do in the next few weeks and don't think about the rest of it. We'll get there eventually."

"We?"

"I'm not going to make you do this alone," said Stiles firmly. "We're pack."

Derek leaned over and kissed him. Stiles tasted like salt and strawberries and he smelled like grass stains and old leather. The kiss only lasted a few seconds. Derek pulled back before Stiles could adjust and respond.

"What was that?" asked Stiles, not sounding completely coherent.

"That was the first step I wanted to take," he answered simply. He'd been second guessing himself for months now when it came to Stiles. But today assured him that no matter what else needed to be dealt with, his feelings for Stiles were the easiest to resolve.

"Oh." Stiles touched his fingers to his lips and his eyes brightened as he watched Derek. "You know the best way to learn anything new is through repetition."

Derek moved suddenly and swung one leg over Stiles, straddling his legs. He cupped Stiles' chin in his hands and leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to Stiles' lips. "I can do that."

Stiles looped his arms around Derek's neck and pulled them closer together. "Yeah," he said softly, before kissing Derek with a little more force.

Derek parted his lips at Stiles' insistent tongue, letting out a brief noise of utter contentment.

They kissed for long, unhurried minutes under the afternoon sun. Neither felt a need to push further. It was more than enough just to be here, wrapped up in each other and making unspoken promises with each kiss.

Derek didn't know how much time had passed until Stiles was pulling away and insisting that they had to go or they'd be late for the game.

He managed to distract Stiles for a few minutes in the stadium parking lot, but eventually Derek had to concede that even he wasn't enough to beat Stiles' overwhelming love of baseball.

The game was everything Derek remembered from years ago. He'd always thought it was hard to describe to people just how much magic floated through the air before a baseball game. Other sports were easier to predict. But baseball was created for dreamers. Anything could happen.

He bought them peanuts and ridiculously expensive packages of cracker jack and purposefully found a Giants jersey that he wore in an attempt to tease Stiles.

It worked until Stiles pulled off his top shirt to reveal a bright blue Mets jersey, then added a hat and foam finger to his ensemble.

Derek watched the game just as much as he watched Stiles, who never stopped talking.

Stiles' eyes stayed on the field the entire time, even during downtime. He insisted at one point that looking away could mean missing history and he already knew what Derek looked like. It didn't stop him from sharing a plethora of facts and stats.

A lot of Stiles' fannish babbling was over Johan Santana, who was apparently Stiles' favorite Mets player. Santana nearly pulled off a no-hitter, and when the first (and only) hit of the night off the pitcher happened, Derek had to yank their sodas out of reach before Stiles sent them flying in his anger.

He knew almost as many facts about the Giants as he did about the Mets, pointing out stats that Derek never knew, or noting what colleges or minor leagues teams players came from and what other famous players had been on the same team.

Derek thought about Stiles and about baseball but he didn't think about the pack or housing or anything else that had been stressing him out all day.

When they drove home after a quick diner breakfast the next morning, Derek privately decided it was the single best day he'd had in years.

Two weeks after the trip to San Francisco, after several dates and an awkward dinner telling the pack and an even more awkward dinner with Stiles' dad, who kept teasing both of them, Derek called and told Stiles to come to an address.

Stiles pulled up to a small apartment complex on the edge of town. He walked up the stairs of one building and knocked on the door. Isaac opened it with a wide grin.

"Come on in."

Stiles saw Danny lounging on the couch, with Isaac rejoining him once Stiles was inside. Derek leaned against the kitchen counter. "You got an apartment."

Derek beamed. "It's just through the school year so Isaac has a place near school. I wanted to get everything set up before you saw it."

Stiles let Derek show him through the house, starting with the two bedrooms. While they hadn't progressed beyond kissing yet—Derek wanted to take things slow and Stiles was actually enjoying their lazy makeouts in the woods—Stiles was happy to note that the living areas were in the middle of the house, creating more distance between Derek and Isaac's bedrooms.

For the most part, everything was simple. The only non-bachelor pad aspect were the two sectional couches put together in a u-shape to accommodate the pack in the living room.

Derek was watching Stiles more closely when they came back to Danny and Isaac, so Stiles took a harder look around, wondering what he was missing.

Then he noticed that above the mantle were two framed pictures. One of AT&T Park, the other of Shea Stadium. "Derek!" Stiles couldn't really think of what to say next so he opted for expressing his joy with a kiss.

Derek kissed him back with a laugh. "I figured just because we're not always on the same side, doesn't mean we can't share the same love."

Stiles grinned at him. "That's really sappy."

"Does it matter?" returned Derek.

Stiles tried to shake his head no but he was too busy kissing Derek to make it clear. He figured Derek got the point.


	3. Chapter 3

Stiles rolled over in bed to see Derek staring at him with the same sappy Nicholas Sparks romance hero stare he always wore in the mornings. "Oh my god!" yelped Stiles. "What are you doing here?!"

"I live here, Stiles. With you. As has been the case unofficially since your junior year of college and officially since your first year of grad school. Which was 3 years ago in May. Also the date of your graduation."

"Yes, I'm aware of these things," said Stiles, rolling his eyes at Derek. "That doesn't answer the question of why you are here in this room, in our bed."

Derek raised an expressive eyebrow. "Well the our bed thing is part of it. Did you hit your head? I'm Derek. You're Stiles. We live together. We're also getting married."

"I know!" Stiles was indignant not stupid. "That's the point, Derek. We're getting married today and you aren't supposed to be in here. I can't see the bride before the wedding!"

"I'm sorry, I wasn't aware we were using traditional gender specific roles in this relationship."

Stiles sat up, folded his arms across his chest, and looked sternly at Derek. "Fine so no one is the bride although I would like to point out that you didn't actually argue the fact that if someone was the girl in the relationship, it would be you. The point still stands. It's tradition not to see each other before the wedding."

Derek huffed at him. "We're a gay werewolf and human couple. What part of that is traditional?"

"Oh my god," groaned Stiles, thoroughly awake and exasperated. "Would you just get out so I can indulge my wedding day fantasies?!"

Derek kissed his nose and slid out of bed. He moved slowly, stretching as he got dressed to insure Stiles knew just what he was kicking out of his bed. Stiles made a pained noise but he didn't take back his request.

Derek stepped back over to the bed and leaned over Stiles. "Can I have one last kiss to get me through the day?"

Stiles tilted forward and kissed Derek very briefly. "Happy wedding day," he said. "Now will you please send Erica and Jackson up here when you leave? They promised massages and head rubs to help me relax."

Derek laughed at his fiancé but he nodded his agreement and made his way downstairs. All of his wedding gear was in the small den at the other end of the house, near Allison and Scott's rooms.

He passed on the instructions and learned that Lydia was out checking over the decorations in the tent being used for the reception—where he and Stiles were absolutely not allowed—and that the others were still sleeping.

Derek poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down to enjoy the quiet before the craziness of the day started. Sometimes it amazed him that he and Stiles had gotten to this point.

The threats over the years had dwindled, to the point that now they were asked to come help others out, rather than playing defense. Derek was smart enough to attribute a lot of that to the humans in the pack. Not only were Lydia and Stiles' warding skills no laughing matter, the alliance with the Argents—who had firmly reinstated their authority during a few harrowing battles with other hunters—had insured that everyone thought twice before venturing to Beacon Hills.

With Stiles' help, and the rest of the pack's as well, Derek had begun to move forward. He'd given himself a few months in the apartment to think about nothing more than training, not fussing with a bigger space. The next step had been a small house after most of the pack graduated high school.

That first house had been a couple blocks from the Stilinski residence. It had 3 bedrooms and a basement. One bedroom was converted into study space as the pack insisted on coming home as many weekends as possible (at least those who weren't staying in Beacon Hills) and the basement turned into a crash space.

From there, things started to happen naturally. The old train yard was reorganized as a meeting ground for visitors or for negotiations. Derek and Peter agreed that they didn't want to rebuild on the site of their old home, but they didn't want to leave it either. Scott suggested building a small training facility on top of the foundation, so that the tunnels could still be utilized. The main home—the one he sat in now—was built about half a mile away, further back in the preserve and deep in the heart of Hale land.

Every pack member had a suite in the house, though with all the couples, most of the extras were currently guest rooms. Allison's suite had been converted into a nursery a few years ago when she had announced her pregnancy. The twins were going to be the flower girl and ring bearer later today. Derek suspected that Isaac's room would be getting the same treatment soon, so long as their adoption paperwork went through.

He had everything he ever wanted, all the things he'd voiced to Stiles one day long ago. Derek thought fondly that today was his World Series day. Silly or not, he was finally getting his ring.

The quiet continued for another 20 minutes. Then Boyd and Isaac emerged from their rooms demanding coffee. Danny started complaining that Lydia was a tyrant, only to shut up when said tyrant returned to the room. After that, everything kept moving faster, with Derek just going where he was told.

Eventually he ended up standing in front of their friends and family, staring into Stiles' eyes, realizing he was about to say his wedding vows to the man he'd loved for nearly a decade.

Stiles had tears at the corners of his eyes, threatening to fall and Derek thought it was hands down the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. He reached out and took Stiles' hand in his. John caught his eye from his spot as Stiles' best man and gave a shaky nod, acknowledging his approval of Derek and his willingness to give Stiles away.

Next to John stood Scott, Jackson, Lydia, and Allison. On Derek's side were Isaac as best man, followed by Boyd, Erica, and Danny, the last of whom wasn't there to make sides even but because it had long since been established that Danny was Derek's friend first and Stiles' friend second.

Peter sat next to Melissa in the audience, no longer pushing to date the woman—especially since his efforts had been effectively ended when John Stilinski asked Melissa out and that was the end of that—but smiling proudly at Derek. Peter traveled a lot still but they'd healed over the years. Derek couldn't help but be happy that he still had family at his wedding.

The rest of their friends and family filled the chairs as he looked out. There were so many more than he'd ever thought possible. His pack's family, Stiles' extended family—who grew closer once Stiles reached out to them—and many of the supernatural creatures they'd helped or grown to know over the years.

It was perfect. And yet a wind could have swept away everything but Stiles, and Derek would still count himself the luckiest man alive.

Andrew, a justice of the peace, and a member of one of the Oregon packs they held treaties with motioned for Derek to begin his vows. Stiles would follow.

_"I spent years believing that I didn't deserve to be happy. To have a family or friends or a home again. And even when I finally let myself want such things, I was sure it would never happen. But you, Stiles, you wouldn't let me linger in my guilt and sorrow. You reached into a world of darkness and you pulled me out and when my world was light and happy again, you still stayed with me. Stiles, you taught me that I could be joyful, but I learned that you are my joy. You make me smile for no reason and every reason. You challenge me when I forget myself and you protect me when I'm all too aware of my shortcomings. You see me, when I'm still trying to open my eyes._

_So I vow to you this day, before all these witnesses, to spend the rest of my life striving to be the man you believe I am. I promise to protect you, to challenge you, to honor you, and to love you. I vow to keep myself at your side, that you may forever know that the light in my world has always been and will always be, you."_

Derek slid his ring onto Stiles' finger as he finished speaking. Then he lifted the hand to his lips and pressed a kiss on hand and ring, sealing his promise. He maintained his grip on Stiles' hand before giving a slight nod for Stiles' to go ahead.

_"Derek, you shook my world apart when I first met you. For months I thought that all these other things were changing my life. The day I realized you were the one who changed everything was the day I realized I never wanted to go back. You tell me so often that your world was dark before. My world was stagnant. I didn't understand that life could be surprising and moving and that with every new challenge was the potential for richness and purpose. Derek, you say I give you joy. You give me purpose._

_So I vow to you this day, before all these witnesses, to spend the rest of my life fulfilling the purpose you believe I was meant to. I promise to protect you, to challenge you, to honor you, and to love you. I vow to keep myself at your side, that you may forever know that the reason for my life's purpose has always been and will always be, you."_

Stiles placed the ring on Derek's finger and echoed his kiss. They stood in silence for a few seconds, saying everything else between them with only a look.

Andrew spoke. "These rings exchanged are a symbol of the promises made today. Let their value be recognized, so that none may seek to harm this bond." He looked from Stiles to Derek, who watched him solemnly. "It is now my great pleasure to declare you husband and husband. You may kiss your groom."

Derek never could be sure which of them reached forward first. All he knew was that the world around him was full of cheers and muffled cries of happiness. But his world was in his arms, smelling like salt and lavender and red dirt, kissing him with all the passion in the world.

Derek pulled back reluctantly after a moment, knowing he had to wait until later to make good on some of his unspoken promises.

As they walked back down the aisle to the cheers of loved ones, after hugging their wedding party and accepting the first round of congratulations, Derek felt briefly overwhelmed. Had he really gotten it all?

Stiles leaned in to whisper in his ear as they walked. "Now that we're married, are you going to be smart enough to be a Mets fan?"

Derek laughed loudly and all his worries vanished.

Stiles grinned wide and Derek was assured instantly that he really wouldn't have to worry because his husband—and oh wasn't that just the most beautiful word—would always know what he needed most.

They stopped at the entrance to the reception tent. Lydia's one request had been to let her handle the reception and she promised that it would be done in a way that fit them perfectly. Boyd and Melissa had volunteered to help her. Their guests were being served drinks on the lawn for the next few minutes. Lydia wanted them to see the display alone and untouched the first time.

"Ready for this?" asked Derek, one hand on the edge of the tent flap.

"I'm just hoping there aren't too many lilies," said Stiles. "You know how Lydia's taste runs. And we have to look at everything or she'll yell later."

Derek gave Stiles a quick kiss. "After you, husband."

"I'm never going to get sick of hearing that," said Stiles, stepping into the tent.

Derek let the flap close before noticing that Stiles stood frozen just inside. "What's wrong?"

"Look," whispered Stiles reverently. "It's perfect. It's completely and totally us and perfect."

As he looked around, Derek couldn't help but agree with Stiles. Lydia had outdone herself.

The colors were a rich blue, burnt orange, with black accents. It should have looked dangerously close to Halloween and yet it didn't. Lydia had expertly woven Mets and Giants colors together into the color scheme.

The centerpieces were medium sized models of every baseball park in America, with a pennant style banner over the top of each to announce the name of the park. Name cards at each place were supported by a miniature baseball bat and the card itself was designed like a ticket to the game.

Little trays, like the kind a concessionaire would wear around their neck, but on a much smaller scale sat on one table as favors when guests left. Small paper bags of popcorn, peanuts, and a box of cracker jack sat in each one. There were larger trays and vintage bags sitting on another table to be eaten during the wedding, and bottled Coca-colas sat in metal, ice-filled trays on either side.

The guest book table had baseballs and bats set on it, with a few signatures already adorning them to indicate that the other guests should sign them. Derek found his breath was taken away by the cakes when they saw those.

When they'd sat through tastings, neither he nor Stiles could decide on a favorite flavor. They'd narrowed it down to six combinations and told Lydia to pick one. He guessed she hadn't. One cake was designed after Shea Stadium, the other after AT&T Park. A Mets jersey cake and a Giants cap design also sat on the table. The final two cakes were modeled after a pitcher's mound and a catcher's mitt.

"You know the pack had her do those last two on purpose," smirked Stiles.

Derek laughed. "I know. They're amazing though."

"Lydia outdid herself," said Stiles, turning to look at the room again. It was truly perfect.

Derek held his hand and gave another glance himself, agreeing completely.

A few seconds later, Lydia opened the tent flap. "Are you two ready to go? Or do you need a few minutes?"

"We're ready," answered Derek with a quick look at Stiles, who nodded.

Lydia made a motion with her hands and the tent flaps were pulled to the sides of the poles and fastened, creating an open and airy environment. The guests milled in as the catering company was revealed to be working on the far side of the tent.

They ate tailgate food, hot dogs and hamburgers with all the fixings once could imagine. Nothing was stilted or overly formal. He'd thought it a lot lately but Derek couldn't help the word perfect coming to mind again.

As the night went on, they listened to toasts both funny and heartfelt, danced to nearly every song, and tried all the cakes. Through it all, Derek's eyes stayed on Stiles, marveling that this really was his husband forever and ever.

Stiles caught Derek looking late that evening, after most of the guests left and those remaining were all pack members. "What is it?" he asked, voice quiet and content.

"I won the championship today," answered Derek with a kiss.

Stiles kissed him, long and slow, wrapping his arms up the same way they had that first time so many years ago, and pressed his body close. "I think we both won."

Derek agreed.


End file.
